‘Don’t worry. Not my coat.’ said Mason. Ellia let out a screech and a little more bile followed, she was thinking about the dead man who wore this coat before her, she imagined him lying in the snow as she once did, his face grey, his body rotting away, being nibbled on by rats, coated in flies. Mason creased his face and apologised for the harsh sense of humour, Ellia shook her head. The wind blew gently as Mason took a few steps out of the lit cave, he looked left, then right, then forward, but all he could see was darkness. A black fog had submerged the entire plains of the world for the past four sleeps, the past four days. Stepping back into the cave, he took a thin strip of firewood and attempted to use it as a torch, but the flame burned at an awkward angle and the wood soon became too hot to hold, Mason hissed and threw the wood into the fire, which was beginning to slowly dim.
‘Two feathers.’ said Mason, pointing at Ellia’s pocket.
‘In there.’ Ellia looked down and reached into the deep pocket of the woven bottoms, she pulled out two golden feathers.
‘We light the lantern and stay together, scavenge the clothes of the first body we find. Find a weapon, any weapon, even a thick stick, even a sharp rock, a sharp rock! Ellia pick up some rocks, large ones, put them in your pockets!’ Mason was pacing around the small area, thinking, getting excited, losing control. As Ellia began to move, a horrifying growl echoed in the cave. Both Ellia and Mason froze and stared towards the entrance where the snow had been clearly trampled. A trail of footprints would give them away.
‘Quick, take this.’ Mason quickly scavenged a bundle of rocks and placed them into Ellia’s cupped hands.